The Age of the Hero
by LadyCassie
Summary: The tales goes that the hero was the Goddess's love reborn and that the sword she had gifted him was born from her love. It is said that while the others around them aged, the hero and Goddess stayed forever frozen in time, together as long as the hero held the blade. (The Lady of Winterfell series 1)


_**I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

Mortals are such fragile creatures, their lives are over in what seems like minutes to her kind, but her kind can not leave without them. Without them, she would be forever lonely, her kind is rare and most stay in the same places their whole lives.

Her place has always been in Winterfell, in the garden in which the Gods tree stays everlasting. Time can stand still in this winter land, it is only the coming and going of the people that remind her that it is just her who stands still. Many people have come and gone, but the Starks have always remained.

Bran the builder, as he's known, was one the first to ever happen upon her. She'd been stood facing the Gods tree, Lady her wolf, sitting at her side when he'd first laid eyes on her. She is the reason this great castle now encases her garden, although she's glad.

She'll never be alone, for there must always be a Stark in Winterfell. It is she who still gives strength to the spell that protects the wall, a spell which Bran had bought with his blood and all those who came after him. For as long as a Stark remained in Winterfell, she would keep up her end of the bargain.

Many Starks have been born and a great many more have crossed over. There are those who are reborn, who return to her garden, who return her, but although they are the same person, they do not remember their past lives or her. She can only watch as they are born to live once more, sometimes meeting the same fate as they had done in previous lives.

Each Stark ever born, is whispered her name at birth, for they are her children as much as they are their parents. It is her wolf whose sigil they claim, her they shall pray to for protection. It is Sansa who will claim the souls of any who dare try to harm them while under her roof.

No southern Gods are welcome in her lands, her wolves see to that. When Ned Stark marries a girl from the south, she tries to bring her Gods with her, but Sansa loves only those of North, and while Ned may build her a sept, no southern God shall hear her prayers, for these, are Sansa's land's to hold and she only listens to those in the north.

Ned's prays to her often, he is always a welcome sight in her garden. When he is elsewhere, she follows the children, it is little Jon who Sansa finds interesting. She knows the truth of his birth, she know's that he is no wolf and yet he can see her, something that has only ever been capable of someone whose blood is as pure as the snow. Somehow, the blood of the wolf has found favor in this young one, and with Catelyn's distaste for the boy, who is Sansa to turn him away.

The few Gods that chose to stay in the human realm, rarely care for those that pray to them. They care only that their name is still spoken, that they are still feared, that they are still given power by the people, something Sansa has never understood.

Her people have always been different to those born in the south, and most southern Gods don't understand why she choose's to stay in the north. Jon for all that southern blood that he carries clearly favors the looks of her people.

Catelyn's prayers that the boy is taken are somehow heard, and Sansa watches as the boy grows deadly ill. Her eyes burn into Catelyn's back, watching as the woman takes in the sickly child. It's the first time a Southern God has ever dared to reach into her land, and Sansa's rage is felt. Snow storms brew, death takes hold of any southern soul it can cling too, all the while Jon grows strong, as Sansa rips the southern curse from his frail body for days on end.

Her rage reaches into the south, searching for the one who would dare try to lay claim to someone of her blood. He might have been born of the dragon, but he is a wolf now, a white wolf, he is a snow and he is her's to claim, and she shall never give him back.

* * *

The dead have awoken, a Stark man from long ago raises an army, but Sansa can not allow him to pass. Once, the night King had been one of her beloved Stark men, but now his is a shell of his former self, and it is Sansa's duty to protect her children, but her children have all gone now.

Ned had ridden south and had never returned. Robb had led an army south and he too had never returned. Arya had ridden south also, only to be lost in a foreign land. The fire had destroyed her home, but her garden remained forever untouched.

Her home left in ruins, her children scattered, her spell which held the wall began to unravel. For the first time, in a long while, time stood still around her. There was no children's laughter to echo through the trees, no prayers to listen too and there are no Starks to bound her by blood.

Still, she does her best to hold the spell. She had sworn to Bran she would, even if there are no Stark's left in Winterfell.

* * *

Jon Snow comes back from the dead with a gasp, his body shuddering when the cold air closes in around his naked body. For a moment he's unsure of what's happened before it all comes rushing back. Davos is at his side in moments, something he is thankful for later. When the red woman visits him, asking what he'd seen, he tells her "Nothing, there was nothing."

He chose not to tell her that he'd returned home, back to Winterfell, back to Sansa.

Growing up the goddess had always watched over him, he'd taken pride in the fact that she'd follow him over Robb, but as he'd grown older, she'd slowly started to fade.

"It's because you are becoming a man, Jon." Sansa had said when he'd first noticed her beginning to fade. "The ability to see is often lost as one leave's behind their childhood, but fear not, dear Jon, for although you might not see me, I shall watch over you forever. "

When he'd left for the wall, he gone to the Gods tree's to take his vows, there he prayed to her, that she might still watch over him.

As time had gone on, the memory of her had slowly faded away, as other things kept his mind elsewhere, but in death, she was all he could see.

Later when he was alone with Davos, Ed, and Tormund he'd told them what he'd seen.

"Sansa, she's the guardian spirit of Winterfell. She's the one who weaved the spells into the wall, it's her who still holds them. If we can get back to Winterfell, maybe we can ask her to do something?"

"You sure you know what you're talking about, Snow?" Tormund asked eye's him from across the room.

"I met her as a child, but while I was dead," He clenched his hands into fists. "I could see her, standing under the Gods Tree in Winterfell. The rest of the castle was burned, but her garden can't be touched, life can never be taken in her garden."

"So we might be safe it from the dead in this garden?" Ed asked, not sounding at all convinced.

"The Bolten's hold Winterfell," Davos said, his arms crossed and looking deep in thought. "And let's just say this Goddess is there, what do we offer her? Lives like we do the red God?"

Jon shook his head, patting Ghost when the wolf nudged him. "No, Sansa isn't one for death. She was bound by blood long ago, by Bran the builder, as long as a Stark remains in Winterfell she can hold the wall."

"There are no Starks in Winterfell," Ed stated, and a sudden chill swept through the room.

Jon exchanged a look with Ed as the two others in the room realized that if what Jon said was true, meant that the wall was useless.

"So we take back your castle, then what?" Tormund asked, crossing his arms and standing so that he no longer leaned against the far wall.

"We bind Sansa to a Stark once more," Davos said, a plan forming in his mind.

"Yes, but we'll need a Stark for that." Ed supplied, watching Jon carefully.

"Won't Snow do?"

"I'm not a Stark,"

"But that wolf of yours," Tormund began, gesturing to Ghost. "He's their house sigil, isn't he? So if he chose you then you must count as a Stark."

"No, Ghost, like the rest of his pack were a gift from Sansa. We found them, but Sansa didn't want me to feel left out, so she left Ghost for me." Jon explained.

"You said you saw her?" Jon nodded at Davos. "You said that a Stark bond her, so that means a Stark can see her, right?"

"Well yes, only a Starks can see her, but not all are blessed with the sight." Jon supplied, knowing that the only other one able to see her had been Bran, and that had been before his fall.

"Still, you clearly favor your Stark blood, so maybe that will be enough to bond with her," Ed added.

"Who cares, if this garden can keep us safe then that's where I'll go," Tormund stated.

Jon looked at the men in the room, each watching for his reaction. It was only when he locked gazes with Ghost's bloody red eyes that he knew his answer. "Looks like were headed home, boy."

* * *

Sansa watched as the Bolten boy pressed against the barrier surrounding her garden. She'd not allow such filth to tread upon her sacred earth. Lady growled when he caressed the barrier with a lovers touch. Sansa hated when he did so, for it felt like he was defiling her in more ways than one.

"Sweet Goddess," His voice was even fouler than his face. "Won't you allow me to enter, so that you might hear my prayers?"

She'd not allow herself to be bound to such a disgraced family. Roose Bolton knew of her existence and knew well not to try to tread in her garden, he'd felt her rage before and dared not test her again. The bastard, on the other hand, was made of something much fouler than his father.

"You can't keep us out forever."

"I'll sooner carve the skin from your bones before I allow you to enter my garden." She hissed in return, allowing him to hear her voice.

The Stark's were sometimes born with the sight, the sight to see her when she did not want anyone to see her, but if she wanted too, she could allow anyone to see her. It wasn't something she did, however, because while children seeing her was all well and good, when they grew they changed, most not for the better, it was better not to allow the men and women to see her.

Ramsay smiled, his hand pressing harder against the barrier. "A woman after my own heart," He's chuckled before finally leaving her alone.

For the first time in her existence, she wished to spill the blood of a northerner. The Bolten's were traitors to the north, but they could not die by her hand.

For days she'd been left to herself, no one daring to venture close to the garden. It wasn't until late one evening that she felt it. A Stark had entered the walls of Winterfell, their blood calling to her, binding her once more.

At once strength welled inside her, her eyes flashing open as Lady growled. One of her children had returned home to her, and north men or not, she'd not allow them to hurt her child. For the first time since her children left her, Sansa steps outside her garden.

She allows her form to be seen, to allow the men to know who it is they face as she and Lady walk side by side to where the Stark blood calls her.

Bolten men and Winterfell servants all freeze as she treads across the snow covered ground. Snow melting before it can touch her burning bright red hair, her eyes are focused only ahead of her, for no one else matters but him.

She walks the halls, people fleeing at the sight of her and her wolf. There is another here, a wolf, one of her gifts to her Stark children. She presses her hand into Lady's soft fur, her always comrade. "Set free that which should never be chained." Sansa orders, knowing that Lady will seek out her brother.

As she close's in on the Stark, she catches sight of Theon standing outside the room. He looks at her with crazed eyes, when he realizes who she is, who exactly it is that is walking towards him, he weeps. At once he falls to his knees, begging forgiveness for the sins he's committed against house Stark.

Theon had once been a welcomed guest in her gardens, he'd been Robbs adopted brother. Now, she isn't sure what to think, he's nothing like the man who'd walked in her garden, but he's blocking her way.

"You're in my way," She said, her eyes flickering down to meet his before he scrabbled to get of the way.

Once, Sansa had been known as the Winter Queen. It's fitting that as she enters the room, that the cold air would sweep the floor, creating an icy mist which blocks the ground from sight.

Inside the room, the people watch her with varying expressions. Ramsay watches her, his rage hidden behind his blank expression. The Umber looks confused, but then realization has his eyes widening and glancing at the child in the room.

Rickon and the wildling woman Osha, both watch her with wary expressions. Osha suddenly falls to her knees, bowing to Sansa who does not take her eyes from Rickon's tall frame.

The boy has grown since she last saw him, he is not yet a man, but he will be soon.

"I know who you are, he spoke of you, said that you are bound by the blood of Stark." Osha began speaking, her form still bowing, but her eyes are looking up to meet Sansa's gaze. "The little Lord is a Stark." She says as if Sansa does not already know this.

"So, you've finally left your garden," Ramsay says, daring to take a step forward, but then pauses as a growl resounds the room.

"Shaggy," Rickon calls, but the wolf stops at Sansa side.

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell," She says, watching as the ice begins crawling up the walls, the air so cold that each breath someone released sends a warm cloud through the air. She see's the moment that Ramsay and the Umber realize that the floor is coated in a sheet of ice, if they move, they'll not make it even a step before they fall.

"Come, little Lord," She use's Osha's words as she holds out her hand. "My garden has longed for the return of a Stark, we must not keep it waiting."

Rickon looks to Osha before he steps forward. Her hand closing around his once it's been laid in her palm. She looks to Osha and inclines her head so that the woman understands that she must follow. Theon who still stood at the door entrance curled in on himself, Ramsay suddenly began shouting for him to stop them.

Sansa glanced back at Ramsay as he clung to one of the high chairs, trying to stay standing. The Umber hadn't been fortunate enough and was already spread on the ground, unable to finding his footing again. Lady walked to Theon, nudging him to stand, but Sansa still kept eye contact with Ramsay.

"Reek! Reek! Get them!"

Sansa doesn't smile as she walks away, her lips might have the slightest upturn thou.

* * *

The battle for Winterfell led to the death of many good men, but somehow they were victories. The castle was nothing like he remembered, his home had only begun to be rebuilt, but even from the outside, he could see the garden had remained untouched.

"That's her garden, isn't it?" Tormund asked as they both faced the direction of the garden, none daring to venture close to the garden life.

The staff had told them of the barrier, how that Lord Rickon was safe in the garden and that the barrier, which before had only stopped anyone from entering, now sucked the life from those that even pressed against it, leaving behind nothing but ash. Ramsay Bolten had met said faith, followed only by another, before no one else dared to even look in the gardens direction.

"You think that you can pass through?" Tormund's mouth was set in a firm frown.

Jon exhaled as he began to stride forward. "There's only one way to find out."

The whole yard came to standstill as they watched Jon, wondering if his Stark blood would allow him entry into the garden.

He stopped where the stone met the grass, he couldn't see the barrier but he could feel its presence. Clenching one hand, he lifted the other and pressed it forward, his hand meeting the barrier. The invisible barrier shimmered, a hissing noise followed by sparking had Jon pulling his hand away. He couldn't enter, but at least he hadn't been killed outright.

A growl from within the garden alerted him to a pair of golden eyes, watching him, sharp white teeth on display as the wolf stalked closer. A dire wolf, Sansa's direwolf, one of Ghost's siblings. "Lady," He bowed his head knowing that the wolf was to be given the same respect as Sansa.

"Jon?"

Jon reacted to the voice, his hands gripping his sword handle. He knew that voice, had grown up with it, it shouldn't be here. Theon Greyjoy had betrayed Robb, so why was he still alive, why was he protected by the barrier, while Jon was kept from entering.

"You know this person?" A wilding woman came forth, eyeing Jon with suspicion clear in her eyes.

Tormund hearing the woman stepped forward, yet still kept a safe distance from the barrier.

"He's Rickon's brother," Theon stated, his voice soft, broken, not at all the man he'd left behind in Winterfell.

"The Crow?" The woman asked, looking to something behind him and Jon looked over his shoulder to see Ghost heading their way. He didn't stop when he reached Jon, instead, he passed straight through the barrier and went to his sister's side.

"Where is Rickon, Theon? And where is Sansa?" Jon said, watching as the barrier sizzled once more when he hand came in contact with it.

"A Stark should be able to pass through the barrier," The woman now looked at Jon through narrowed eyes.

"He's a snow, maybe only true born can pass through," Theon said, flinching when Jon smacked the barrier.

"Could be the reason he's still alive," The woman mused.

Rickon's tall form came into view, having followed the voices of Osha and Theon. The people on the other side of the barrier were unknown to him, but the dark haired one looked familiar. "Jon?"

"Rickon!?" The boy moves to step forward but a hand halts him. "Sansa?"

"You can't pass through the barrier?" She says matter of factly.

"No,"

Her eyes drift down to Ghost who has moved to her side. "Why have you come here?"

"To take back Winterfell," Jon says when she cuts him off.

"Why have you really come here?"

"You kept the dead from passing the wall?" It's spoken like a question, although they all know the answer.

"I was bound at the first to keep watch over house Stark, they, in turn, charged me with protecting them from the dead."

"The dead walk again, I ask that you honor your vow once more and protect us." Jon fell to his knee, bowing as he asked.

"I am bound to Stark blood, but the years apart have weakened my power."

Davos who has been listening from a safe distance dares to tread forward, but bows when Sansa's gaze lands on him. "My Lady, might we discuss this on equal grounds, when the threat of death is not mere inches from our faces?"

Sansa regards him with a smile. "For freeing the castle I shall allow this request."

Jon doesn't actully see the barrier fall, but he feels it. He doesn't even hesitate before he's running to Rickon, holding his brother close now that they are no longer separated.

"Winter does not effect the garden?" Davos asks as he steps cautiously into the garden. Following Sansa, as she leads them further into the garden, although snow covers the ground, all the plants are still very much alive.

"A goddess's garden may never die while she still treads upon the grass," Jon said, smiling at Sansa, having remembered her saying those words to him when he was not but a boy.

"If I many, how is it that you came to dwell here? I've never heard of a God actully linger in our realem.."

"Very few do, sir, but I'm no God."

"Goddess," Tormund says cheekily, grinning when Davos looks in his direction.

"Might I ask why you chose here?" Davos asks watching as Sansa's takes a seat upon the rocks at the hot spring. No one else dares to sit, least it insult the Goddess.

"For love,"Sansa says, smiling when Rickon gazes at her in open fascination. "I was waiting when Bran first came upon me, and I wait still."

Davos nods, glancing in Jons direction."He was like us?"

Sansa grins, "Whats to say it wasn't a woman?"

Davos and Jon both blush, while Rickon looks confused. Osha and Tormund find it funny, while Theon inches closer to Sansa, slowly sliding to the ground behind her, so that they were back to back. Jon's made a move to go forward, but Lady had moved and now blocked Theon with her large form.

"It was a man, but whose to say that when he returns he won't be a woman," Sansa said, looking content to lean back against the Greyjoy behind her, all the while she was watching Jon. "I will love him no matter what shape or form he'll return in,"

"How will you know it's him?" Osha asks, and Jon takes note that the woman seems completely at ease with Sansa.

"Thre is a reason I chose the Starks," She's outright staring at Jon.

"He was one of them, a Stark," Jon stated and was rewarded with a stunning smile from Sansa.

"Many of my kind find me strange, for they do understand love nor devotion, neither did I till he found me. He had the sight, and no matter where I went he followed, he was quite and shy, but he saw something in me which not even I could see, it's what lead me to love him. The Starks are all that I have left of him," Her gaze turns harsh as she looks art Davos. "I will give my life before I allow them to be taken from me again."

"The dead match on the wall, will your spells hold?"

"For generations, the Starks born gave strength to the spell which holds the wall, but because they left it has begun to unravel, Rickon can't repair it."

Tormund is suddenly angry. "You're a Goddess, shouldn't you be able to do it alone, why do you need Stark blood anyway, why can't we bind you to us?"

Sansa's calm hair is suddenly floating around as she stands. Theon falls flat on the rock behind her, but he doesn't so much as flinch. "You dare think this my fault? It's your own kind who caused this, you wanted what should never have been yours, and the fates decided to do something to punish you. Who do you think has kept the wall from falling when no Stark was here in Winterfell? Who was it that first put the Night King to sleep?" She snared.

Osha had moved both her and Rickon to stand behind Sansa as she stalked forward, while Davos and Tormund backed away when faced with the rage of Sansa.

"You all come to me with tales of how you've lost so much, but I have bared witness to death more than anyone else. The night King was once mine, a Stark man whose heart beat for his people, but he was turned into a monster for his greed, for the greed of all those in the north. I am bound to house Stark, never can I bring them harm, he might no longer look it, but the night King is still a Stark, and for that, I can not assist you anymore then I have already done."

It is silent as Sansa calms.

"Can he be killed?" Jon asks, not fearing Sansa, never fearing Sansa, because he knows her better than most, he feels like he'd always known her.

"There is a sword, which has laid in slumber since it's creation."

Jon swallows, "What's it made from?"

Sansa kneels at the hot spring, her hand reaching into the water. " Valyrian steel, forged under the light of full moon using my blood, in this very garden." She pulled from within the steaming pool the hilt of a sword. The Stark wolf stood out proudly, the steel not the same silver as any other sword he'd seen, but the same red as Sansa's hair. "A gift for my beloved upon his return."

She stands, holding the sword in her palms to display it.

Jon doesn't know why, but he steps forward, meeting Sansa's gaze head on. "It's singing?"

He doesn't notice the confused looks that are being sent his way, doesn't seem to realize that he's reaching for the sword until it's already in his hands. "So my beloved might always hear me."

"You made this for me?"

* * *

There is a tale, that long ago, when the Wall fell, a hero stepped forth. Born with the blood of two great house's he rode out to battle the Night King. His aunt, The dragon queen aided him in battle, but it was the Hero who slew the Night King, using a blade gifted to him by a Goddess.

The tales goes that the hero was the Goddess's love reborn and that the sword she had gifted him was born from her love. It is said that while the others around them aged, the hero and Goddess stayed forever frozen in time, together as long as the hero held the blade.

The Starks of Winterfell pass on this tale to each generation born, it is a tale told to all those in the north, and even much of the south. It is not uncommon for the people of the South to venture to Winterfell, to pray to the Goddess in the Garden. Should you be lucky enough to catch sight of The Goddess and her Love walking in the garden, then you should never know misfortune again.

Known as the age of the Hero, their tale is one that shall withstand the test of time, just like their love.


End file.
